


All Wrapped Up

by Shiropropaganda



Series: Bottom Shiro Week 2019 [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Shiro, Enthusiastic Consent, Fingering, Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Restraints, Teasing, light tentacle-esque sensuality?, minor D/s, shiro is a brat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 04:27:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17439938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiropropaganda/pseuds/Shiropropaganda
Summary: For #BottomShiroWeekKeith is positive the New Olkarian colony would be traumatized if they knew what they were doing with their wedding gift.





	All Wrapped Up

Keith is positive the New Olkarian colony would be traumatized if they knew what they were doing with their wedding gift.

The vines of the solid wooden chair-- usually used for holding glasses or reaching for something they’d forgotten as they both settled in for dinner-- wrap around his wrists, keeping them firmly tucked in the small of his back. Shiro smirks at him from his seat on counter, legs spread wide as his prosthetic stretches him open, the Olkarian head piece perched on his soft silver locks ensuring the chair follows his command.

Keith jolts when he feels a stray vine brush against his nipple, and narrows his eyes at his husband who watches with interest, plush bottom lip caught between his teeth.

This is definitely not what this chair was made for, and Keith opens his mouth to tell the older man so when the vine slithers down and wraps around the base of his cock, causing a low groan to slip past his lips instead.

Shiro echoes the sound as he slips a third finger inside, wide and wet and open and the hold on Keith’s wrists is loose enough he could break free and be across the room in seconds. He debates doing just that, moving in a blur and burying his face between his husbands thick thighs, but Shiro would pout about it later and Keith likes giving him what he wants the first time he asks for it.

He could probably come like this-- with the vine silken and smooth and twisting around him as he watches Shiro roll his hips onto his own fingers-- but Keith knows Shiro wants to be fucked, even if he’s being a horrible tease about it. He’s never been good at waiting, but Shiro always makes it worth the effort.

He just hopes the marks where his pants are scrunched and trapped halfway down his thighs don’t leave angry creased lines in his skin like the last time Shiro decided he was patient enough to tease but not patient enough to get their clothes off.

Sure enough, not even a full breath later, Shiro lets his arm drift back into place and prowls closer. The vine wrapped around his cock tightens infinitesimally, making his eyes hood and his breaths heavy before the older man is even close enough to touch.

The vine slips away once Shiro’s sunk to his knees, and Keith can’t stop the moan from slipping out when plush lips press against his hardness.

Shiro’s a tease, always has been, and pillows his lips along his length He ghosts the tip of his cock with a brush of tongue, making Keith’s hips jump when he blows cool air on his sensitive skin. He barely has a warning before the older man takes him in his mouth with a loud sound, bobbing his head quickly and moaning around his dick like he’s getting pleasure from it himself. Shiro lets himself get nasty with it, spit dripping out of his mouth, looking up at Keith when he takes his length into his throat. He chokes on Keith on purpose-- he’s confessed that he loves watching the way the younger man’s eyes go crossed at the sudden pressure-- letting him press his hips up so he can bury himself in that silken heat as he pleases.

Keith knows better than to think he’ll be allowed to come like this, and for this reason alone he doesn’t cry out in frustration when Shiro lets his cock fall from his lips and climb into his lap.

Shiro settles himself atop his thighs, angling his hips so that Keith slides snugly into the crease of his ass, wet and hot but still too far from the plush perfection he wants to bury his cock into. He tries to roll his hips, but Shiro’s prosthetic wraps around a hip, pinning him to the chair.

Shiro still has his shirt on, hastily unbuttoned but soft where he rubs the sleeve against Keith’s cheek and he lets out a soft sigh at the feeling.

His husband shifts, rolling his hips hard and filthy and punching the air out of his lungs. The head of his cock catches on Shiro’s rim for just a moment but the older man draws back before he can sink inside, and Keith should be embarrassed by the desperate noise that comes out of his mouth, but Shiro decides this is the moment he wants to suck on his tongue, so his shame flies out the window.

“Want something?” Shiro breathes into his open mouth, and Keith wants to snark back, really he does, but there’s a tearing sound and suddenly their chests are pressed skin to skin, and the sudden heat has his heart thudding so loud he’s sure it has answered for him.

He hated that shirt anyway.

“Tell me what you want,” Shiro’s voice is a deep pur as he presses his mouth to the sensitive skin behind Keith’s ear, the spot just after his jaw where he asks his husband to bite when he fucks Keith from behind.

His hips are still rolling, and Keith can barely keep his head up on his own, letting it fall back against the chair. Fingers press under his chin, tilting it up. He’s so far gone he hadn’t realized Shiro had stopped kissing him.

“Tell me,” the older man says again, but Keith’s cheeks burn and he looks away.

Shiro leans back, wrapping his fingers around his own cock. He pins Keith with his eyes as he jerks himself, slow and twisting, letting his hips move, fucking into his hand and then dragging his ass back down against Keith’s cock. 

Keith would like to think he’s put up a good fight. He really would. But he lets his eyes drop down for just a moment and watching him work his cock in his lap and he knows he’s a lost cause.

“Let me fuck you,” he groans, trying again to lift his hips, but still pinned down by the weight and strength of Shiro’s prosthetic.

Shiro makes a soft tsk sound, and his hand speeds up, head dropping back.

“I want to fuck you, please,” Keith tries again, voice cracking a bit in his desperation.

Keith feels his cock find his rim once more, and Shiro shifts just enough that the head can press inside before he stops.

“Please, fuck, it hurts,” Keith babbles, eyes rolling back at even this morsel of pleasure.

“If you wanted it you’d tell me clearly,” Shiro growls in his ear and Keith lets out a choked sound, breathing hard through his nose as he gives in.

“Use me,” he finally says, and Shiro groans as he moves, gripping the base of Keith’s cock and sinking down slowly, hips swiveling in small circles until he’s seated.

The older man wastes no time, lifting and dropping back down, bouncing in Keith’s lap like he’s the one who had been teased and strung along the entire time.

Shiro is nothing but praises as he moves, head falling back.

The head piece clatters to the floor and the vines around Keith’s wrists loosen completely. He raises his arms, gripping the top of the chair but then--

“Put me on the table.”

His brain short circuits, arms wrapping around Shiro and pushing off from the chair to awkwardly shuffle with his pants still clinging to his calves. The older man lays himself out, hands wrapping behind his thighs to spread himself open for Keith and Keith is so fucking gone on his husband that when he sinks back inside his entire body shakes.

He meets Shiro’s gaze and falls so deep he sees molten silver behind his eyelids when he comes. 

He can feel the older man’s legs around him, pulling him in to milk his orgasm, but he can’t lift his heavy lids for another few moments. When he opens his eyes, Shiro is smiling up at him cum streaking up his stomach and chest.

He rests his head against his husband’s shoulder, all but laying on the table himself, and once he gets the energy to speak he says--

“That’s really not what those chairs were made for.”

  
  
  



End file.
